Carry Me Home
by LydiaLuvsLuie
Summary: Germany knew he never should've gotten Italy involved in this war. It had proved to be too much for the boy, and for Germany himself.


Germany knew he should have never gotten Italy involved in this mess. It had proved to be too much for him, and Germany as well.

"He is not ready!" Japan had stressed, but, at the time, Japan's peaceful, polite persona could not persuade Germany's aggressive and loud demeanor. If Germany would have just stopped yelling and listened for once he wouldn't be in the predicament he found himself in now.

Another bomb exploded in the distance, sending yet another shower of dust, smoke, and shrapnel flying in all directions. Germany dodged a slew of dirt, putting his hand up to shield his face, yelling curses to himself. He squinted through the smoke and dust, desperate to catch a glimpse of his partner, who had mysteriously disappeared after an earlier volley of rocketing flame and canon fire. He turned the whirring sound of an approaching rocket launcher. Through the haze he could see the smoking device land near a tall, solid but misshapen structure, barely skimming the dirt before detonating and sending up a sonic shower that shook the ground below Germany's feet and further dirtied the space before him, making it even more difficult to see. A scraping sound proceeded by a solid thud and the sound of falling rocks accompanied by sudden screams followed the blast, but Germany couldn't see what had happened.

The constant screams of death and pain accompanied by the strained shouting of orders had quieted with time and the non-stop gunfire had seemed to come to lull. Germany had taken his chance.

The battlefield was located amidst the crumbling remains of old stone towers, many of which were being used as firing shelters. The long winter had left the ground brown and almost completely free of green grass, the recent stretch of warm weather had dried the ground, leaving the battlefield a landscape of nothing but hills of dry dirt, stirred up and churned by the pounding of thousands of feet and the wheels of tanks and vehicles, and tossed around by the force of bombs and gunfire. Germany's face, as well as that of others, was covered in a layer of dirt that had become caked with sweat. His clothes too were covered in a layer of dirt, making him itch as bits of it crept down the collar of his uniform.

The sky was growing steadily darker and the clouds were rolling themselves into a menacing gray mass. A terrible storm was approaching, although many refused to believe it out of disoriented fear. The wounded and those who lay dying looked up at the sky and all felt an array of emotions. Many saw the swirling, rumbling clouds as yet another terror to encounter on this day of firing and blood shed, others saw it as somehow peaceful, a fitting end that would wash away their wounds after they no longer felt their pain, a suitable farewell to their already dark and dreary day. Most although likely felt some amount of fear-fear of what further horror awaited them within those malicious clouds, fear of what would become of them if no one found them before the water overpowered their weak and broken bodies, and simply fear of the thought of death. These fears were what Germany hoped Italy was not experiencing , wherever he was.

The wind began to hasten, bringing in a cold chill from the North, an almost comforting sensation after so many days of humid heat. The dust the wind took with it, however, was not so comforting and the thought of what would follow this wind was even less so.

"Italyyyy!" Germany called out, his deep voice seeming to be carried away by the wind, taken, never to reach the ears for which it was intended.

"Germany, come! A storm is approaching! We must retreat or this dirt will turn to terrible mud and the rain will wash away our ammunition!" Japan urged Germany along worriedly.

"Nein! I von't go!" Germany refused, half ignoring his his friend. All that was on his mind was finding Italy. All sense and rationality had long since abandoned him. No words spoken or forces applied could turn him from his goal, they were simply a nuisance, as he usually found Italy to be. The long days of battle had left him sleep deprived and disoriented. Thoughts of Italy constantly ran through his mind. It was all his own fault;he had gotten Italy into this mess. The boy was so young, so naïve, he wasn't ready for something as brutal as this, but he had been so eager. He wanted to help Germany. Germany didn't want to disappoint him, and now he would have rather listened to weeks of Italy's high-pitched, incessant complaining than bare the thought of losing him. If only he had thought of that then, none of this would have happened. Italy would be back home safe and sound waiting for Germany to return. He might have even made him pasta. Germany could be going back to base with Japan and all would be well, all things considered, but, he had been convinced, a difficult feat even for Italy to accomplish. Germany continued his search, taking a few more labored steps, fighting his weak body.

"Italy for God's sake vhere are you?" Germany grumbled desperately as he squinted into the distance through the foul air.

"Come, Germany." Japan urged gently, catching up to Germany and placing a hand on hand on his broad shoulder.

"If he's okay he will come. You're going to get yourself killed-"

"I told you I'm not coming and you von't make me!" Germany shook Japan's hand off his shoulder.

"Germany he may already be gone. We don't need to loose you too. Please, come."

"True, he may be gone und if he is it's all my fault." Germany sighed closing his eyes for a moment. "But he may damn vell still be out there und I'm not going to stand here vhile he gets pounded by this storm!"

Japan nodded once in understanding and turned a bit fearfully to follow the others. Both armies had seen the dark gray mass looming over them and had agreed to a truce until the worst of the storm had passed.

Thunder rumbled overhead and Germany looked up to see the clouds swirling angrily. The wind had died down for a few moments but was now picking up quickly, stirring up more dirt. Another loud clap of thunder sliced through the air and the first few droplets of rain rocketed down onto Germany's helmet. A flash of lightning pierced the sky and for a split second Germany could see more clearly. The rain wasted no time in forming thick sheets of large,cold droplets. Within minutes the dirt was becoming chunks of sticky mud. The rain pelted down on Germany's helmet, making a clinking sound with every drop. He quickly undid the chin strap and cast the helmet to the ground, not caring what became of it.

As the rain fell, the dirt on Germany's face began to run, muddy bits forming in his eyes and the taste of dirt finding it's way onto his tongue. His slicked back blonde hair began to loose it's form; pieces of hair began to stick to his forehead. Germany spat dirt out of his mouth angrily and mumbled various curses as he aggressively wiped his eyes and shook his head. The dirty hills had already began to turn into a sinking, Mucky mess. Germany struggled to step through it.

"Damn this rain!" he growled as he fought to reclaim his boot from a particularly deep sinkhole.

He turned his head suddenly as a beautiful sound reached his ears through the roar of the wind and rain.

"Germany! Germany! Are you there?!" Italy's voice called, sounding as if he had been calling for some time. Germany could sense a heavy amount of fear in his voice and it pained him, but the very sound of Italy's voice let him know he was alive. He may have even smiled there amid the storm.

"I'm here Italy! I'm coming!" Germany called, tugging his boot on hurriedly as he stumbled through the mud, almost tripping as he ran.

"Germany! Germany! Help! It's wet and cold and I can't move my legs! Germany, I'm scared!"

"Keep talking Italy! I-I'm coming! Just hold on!"

"Hurry Germany the rain is getting in my nose and my mouth and it's hard to-" His voice stopped and Germany's eyes grew wide with fear and he trudged forward desperately. Another clap of thunder roared above him, accompanied by a bright flash of lighting that struck the ground atop a hill in the near distance, momentarily brightening the dark, dirty air. Germany caught sight of a pile of stone rubble beside a tower to his right, and, somehow, in all this rain, there was amid these stones, sticking straight up, a single brown curl.

"Italy." Germany gasped, a burst of both joy and fear overcoming him. He trekked up the slight incline towards the structure. As he dragged himself through the mud he heard Italy coughing and took a sigh of relief. He came up near the pile of stones to see half of Italy lying on the muddy ground in a pool of dirt and water mingled with his own blood. Germany's head began to spin and his jaw dropped slightly when he realized he could not see Italy's legs.

"Germany! Help! My-my legs." Italy choked out in between coughs, looking down at the stone that was crushing both of his legs.

Germany relaxed slightly upon seeing one of Italy's feet peaking out from underneath the large stone that used to be part of the tower that loomed beside them.

Germany looked at the scene before him and knew that it was all his fault. He looked so broken. His eyes were red and he wiped filthy water out of them with a weak and shaking hand . His other arm lay limp beside him, the sleeve of his uniform more bloody and singed than the rest of it was. His face was pale and he looked at Germany weakly, the tiniest of smiles trying to form on his face as he looked desperately up at Germany.

"H-hold on Italy. Let-let me see-"

He looked around him desperately and saw nothing that could help him move the stone without completely crushing Italy.

"Just-just stay still, Italy. I-I'll figure something out!" He raised his voice above the increasing wind.

Germany looked to the sky and saw that the clouds were almost black now, and seemed to be almost dancing among each other in some menacing fashion. Peering into the distance he could see a funnel forming, making it's way towards the ground. Panic filled filled Italy's eyes and Germany knew he too likely looked terrified. He hated fear, and he had never felt more scared in his life. No event of war could compare to seeing his little Italy trapped beneath a stone with him as his only hope of rescue and having no possible way to save him except to hurt him more. Not to mention the fact that Mother Nature was sending a possible death sentence for the both of them right in their direction.

A small stone suddenly flew by Germany's face, carried solely by the blazing wind. Germany's heart sank as he realized that he had no other choice if he wanted either of them to even think about seeing another day. He looked at Italy sorrowfully.

"Germany." Italy whimpered, tears in his clouded, brown eyes.

"This is going to hurt." Germany stated, holding back tears.

"I don't want it to hurt, Germany-"

"It'll have to! Do you vant to live!?" Germany yelled harshly, his own sorrow turning into anger.

"...yes." Italy responded weakly, his lip quivering.

Germany sighed, knowing he had been to harsh. The boy was scared enough as it was.

"Don't worry Italy, once we get out of here we'll go get some pasta,okay?"

Italy nodded slightly, shaking with fear.

"Germany closed his eyes and summoned every piece of his brute strength into his tired muscles . He shakily placed his hands onto the cold, wet rock, taking a deep breath and positioning his legs, trying to keep them as firmly planted as possible in the slippery mud, Closing his eyes again he tried to pretend that it was just a giant stone, nothing more, pretend that his little Italy was not lying beneath it. It didn't work. Still, he knew it had to be done. He rolled the stone forward. His deep cries of effort mixed with Italy screams of pain, shutting out the sound of cracking bone. Finally, Germany felt no more resistance. He stopped and hesitantly opened his eyes to see a horrid sight.

There lay what he knew to be Italy, but it hardly looked to be him. His face had gone almost snow white and he looked as if he might pass it, but that was not what pained Germany the most. His legs were broken, shattered, and gravely misshapen . White bone pierced the skin in a few places and the fabric of his uniform, as well as much of his skin, had been scraped to shreds by the rolling of the stone and whatever else he had been through. Red blood ran down onto the ground, moved along by the rain, which might have been soothing had it not been coming down in stinging torrents. Italy was submerged in a pool of mud,blood, and rain. Germany let his tears fall, hoping they'd simply blend with the rain. He dropped to the ground beside Italy, feeling his partner's pulse. The pounding at his neck was weak and strained. Italy could not speak and simply whimpered in pain, muttering something unintelligible. His body shook and his eyes remained closed.

Germany removed his military jacket and placed it on the ground beside him, using his knee to keep the heavily soaked fabric from being stolen by the wind. He then peeled of his shirt and quickly ripped it in two, using it to bind Italy's legs together so they'd remain relatively still. Italy whimpered at his touch. He spread his jacket out on the other side of Italy, tucking the sleeve beneath him to keep it from blowing away. Germany then shoved his hands through the muck and blood, working to grab hold enough of Italy to gently lay him within the jacket. He then took each of Italy's arms, finding one of them to be severely burnt, and lay them upon Italy's chest, wrapping the jacket about Italy and tying the sleeves tightly. The rain and mud had long since soaked both articles of clothing and therefore provided no warmth for poor, shivering Italy, but they would at least keep him still so that his body would receive no further damage.

Italy stirred slightly as Germany reached beneath him once more.

"Come on Italy," Germany said, straining to pull the both of them up from the mud. "let's go get you that pasta."

A tiny smile crept onto Italy's face at the word 'pasta' and he laid his head against Germany's chest as Germany carried him home through the pouring rain.


End file.
